


Home Isn't Always a Place

by KatieComma



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Jill still dies, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut, Sorry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Post-S2Mac can't stay in LA, he needs to go.Jack goes with him.They find a secluded little place to get away from the world for a while.But things are never quite that simple...
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	Home Isn't Always a Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Orianess for beta reading this for me!!!! You're a gem!!!
> 
> I'm sorry to everyone else... this... is SOOO angsty... it HURT to write... it HURTS to reread... so: sorry in advance. It does end happy though, I promise!
> 
> Whenever full sentences are in italics it's because they're speaking Italian... but I didn't want to have to keep mentioning that they're speaking Italian.

Jack feels like he’s taken a step back in time.

He lets himself out of the little house and onto the crooked stone-paved street, and takes a deep breath of a town lost in time. There’s no smell of exhaust, no sound of cars or rushing people. The town smells old, and sounds quaint and easy.

He walks down the little cobbled street toward the market, letting the hot sun beat down on him, watching the colourful walls of the other houses that he passes.

When Mac had walked out of the war room two months before and stormed off, Jack had watched for about a second before he followed, and found Mac still in the parking lot, sitting in his Jeep and staring at the steering wheel. Jack had all but dragged him out of the SUV and thrown him into the GTO before taking off and just driving.

“I can’t go back Jack,” Mac had said after a solid hour of driving down the highway.

“That’s cool hoss,” Jack had replied. “I understand. No big deal I’m sure you can find work doin’ whatever you-”

“I can’t stay here,” Mac’s voice had been… tormented… pained. Jack had seen that in men too many times before; men on the verge of giving in to dark thoughts, or just giving up entirely; men who felt like they’d lost just about everything.

“So where’s we to then Mac?” Jack asked.

“We? Jack you don’t have to-”

“You’re my compass man,” Jack said. “I’m always headed your way. Or… maybe you’re what my compass always points to? Whatever. Analogy’s no good, but the sentiment’s right on the money. I go where you go amigo. Capiche?”

Mac had been silent. But he’d asked Jack to stop as his place while he packed, then jumped back in the car and told Jack to take him somewhere he could be away from the world for a while.

Jack had known just the place.

Vernazza, Italy is small, beautiful, and ancient; a place out of time. Doesn’t hurt that Jack speaks fluent Italian, or that Mac’s is passable enough for him to get by. If he’d ever leave the damn house. Which doesn't seem to be on his list of things to do. It’s starting to worry Jack, just how shut away Mac is. He sleeps too much. At first, it didn’t bother Jack: Mac needed to recharge, figure some things out in his brain. But he’d expected it to be better by now.

Jack stops at the market and picks up the makings for dinner. Food has been interesting: a strange mix of southern recipes and Italian ingredients. He picks up a little cake from one of the local women he’s come to know well. Eva. He buys a cake off her every couple days, and chats with her about her kids and grandkids. Jack likes her. The lines in her face show a life well lived, a life full of laughter. And she likes Jack, loves the way his accent sounds and when he calls her ma’am.

“Grazie mille, Jack,” Eva thanks him in her warm voice.

Jack replies in Italian, praising her baking, which makes her blush.

“ _You’ll come to the waterfront tonight_?” She asks.

“ _The waterfront_?” Jack asks.

“ _Francesca, Alessandra’s daughter, is getting married today_ ,” she replies as she ties a bow around Jack’s cake box. Not just anyone gets a bow, he’s noticed. “ _The girl is moving away with her husband to live in La Spezia and run his family’s business. Some nonsense to do with shoes. But if there’s one thing Italians know how to do, it’s celebrate._ ”

“ _We do our share of partying in Texas too_ ,” he replies.

“ _Maybe your friend would want to come_ ,” she says. “ _He is handsome. There will be many girls looking to dance with handsome men tonight_.” She’s met Mac a few times when he’s gotten out of bed early enough to come to the market.

Jack nods. His gut twists at the idea of Mac stepping out of his depression and into the arms of some girl for a distraction. It’s not the way. He knows that.

Eva sends him off with a sweet bun to eat on his walk home.

He’s starting to feel comfortable in this town.

His stroll back through the streets is perfect: hot sun, people greeting him kindly along the way, cobbled streets and houses with paint peeling that somehow still look happy and well cared for despite their wear.

When he gets back to the house and lets himself in the little front gate, he hears movement inside. Jack’s so excited, he rushes into the house and almost topples the little cake box off the counter as he sets it down.

The house is quaint and old fashioned. The doors still open with skeleton keys, the stairs are uneven and creak. The walls inside are washed bright white which gives Jack a fresh cool feeling whenever he steps out of the hot day. The kitchen is small with a tiny fridge that holds just enough for a few meals worth of food. There are no countertops, just the stove and a butcher’s block island that looks older than the town. The living room has a radio, but no TV, the view supplied instead by a window that opens onto the back garden. A garden that’s pleasantly overgrown, vines climbing surfaces, grasses and flowers taking back the little stone pathway that goes to the back wall. A little staircase climbs from the living room to the bedrooms: one for Mac and one for Jack.

There is no internet. They keep their phones charged for emergencies and Jack’s weekly call to Riley. It’s a perfect getaway from the world.

Mac’s standing in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, his face unreadable.

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?” Jack tries to play it cool as he sets the groceries on the island and starts to unpack. He doesn’t mention the days in bed, or prod Mac to go outside anymore. He’d tried at first and it hadn’t helped, only made things worse.

Mac thinks for a moment; like any person should have to check-in with themselves that hard to know how they feel. “Good,” he concludes finally, meeting Jack’s eye. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a familiar glint in his eye that Jack hasn’t seen in a while.

“What’s for dinner?” Mac asks.

“Well that all depends,” Jack replies, turning to lean back against the counter.

“On what?” Mac asks, his lips quirking toward a smile.

Jack could fly he feels so good that Mac finally seems to be waking up.

“Well, there’s a party goin’ down at the waterfront tonight,” Jack says. “We could hop on down, check it out, grab a bite and see what’s what?” He doesn’t add: if you’re up for it. Because Mac needs to start getting out, needs to stop being babied.

Mac thinks long and hard again. “Could be fun.” Maybe the fog is lifting, but not gone yet. Without problem after problem to get him through the day, all Mac has are his thoughts, and for a while he seemed to be drowning in them and there was nothing Jack could do.

“Alright, it’s a date,” Jack says without thinking. He turns back to the groceries before Mac can see his face turn red. Jack’s been keeping those feelings under wraps for a long time, and he’s good at hiding it most of the time. But every once in a while something slips to the surface.

“Yeah, it’s a date,” Mac repeats, before he takes his glass of water and walks out into the garden.

Jack watches as Mac stands in the middle of all that green and tilts his head back to the sun, eyes closed. His hair trickles with gold in the sunlight, his skin so pale; but it’s always been that way. Even when they were in the sandbox, Mac hadn’t tanned at all. Every once in a while his nose and cheeks might burn, but they’d peel and he’d be pasty white again.

They hadn’t exactly packed for a wedding celebration. But they help each other get presentable: Mac in a light blue button-up they hastily steam the winkles out of in the shower; Jack in a dark v-neck tee.

Mac’s hair is getting long again, and he’s always running his fingers back through it to get it out of his face, but it falls casually around his cheekbones, and Eva ain’t wrong: if he wants to score a sweet Italian girl tonight, he’s gonna have no problem at all. Jack can’t help but think he’s being selfish when he hopes it doesn’t happen. Maybe a little sex is all Mac needs to jumpstart his love of life again.

They hear the celebration blocks and blocks away from the waterfront. And when they finally come out onto Via Visconti, Jack would swear the entire town has turned out. And they probably have.

All of the bars and cafes and restaurants are open, lights blazing, lighting up the street. People are everywhere, and all of them have drinks in hand.

Mac laughs at the sight, his face a pure joy that Jack hasn’t seen in a long time. It makes him want to cry, to fall to his knees and thank whoever’s pulling the strings for bringing Mac back, even if it’s just for this moment or this night.

Mac throws an arm around Jack’s shoulders like they used to do, and they wade into the crowd. Jack lets his arm snake around Mac’s lower back, and holds on tight. It’s not selfish, he tells himself, they’re just trying to stay together in the crowd.

The night flies by, and Mac’s laughter comes more often and more easily. He leans into Jack at one point and speaks into his ear: “my cheeks hurt from smiling,” but he doesn’t stop.

Several young ladies boldly ask Mac for a dance when the two bachelors wander close enough to the dance floor. Mac’s grip tightens on Jack as he declines, and Jack tries not to heave a sigh of relief.

They pick up a beer each along the way, but just the one. Jack’s been very careful not to have too much alcohol around the house. It’s too easy to fall into despair when you’re drunk. Instead he brings them home a few every now and then to share, but never more than that. This night is no different. They each get one bottle and nurse it as they walk among the crowds.

They stumble across Eva at one point, dancing with a man thirty years younger than her at least.

“ _My grandson_!” She shouts over the music, twirling around in time with the quick-pace of the music. Jack doesn’t think he could keep up with her. She stops for a moment, taking a breath. “ _Look at you two_ ,” she smiles, and Jack thinks she’s probably had more than a few glasses of grappa. “ _So handsome. What a beautiful pair you make. Every woman in town will be so disappointed_.”

Mac struggles with her quick Italian shouted over loud music, and Jack can see the gears working as he tries to translate.

“ _Oh, it’s not_ -” before Jack can finish the sentence, Eva lets herself get whisked back into a dance, this time by an older man. Jack keeps his smile on and turns to Mac. “Well, she’s definitely had a few I think.” He drags Mac away, hoping that they can avoid discussing the implication she made, if Mac caught all of it.

They stay close to each other for the rest of the night. Women stop asking either of them to dance, stop giving them eyes even, and Mac continues to share the little touches they’d always shared before his falling out with his dad. Mac’s coming back to him, and Jack swells with happiness. He starts planning for the days ahead: they can take a boat out, convince one of the fishermen to take them along one day, hike up to the castle. And then Jack reminds himself that this is Mac’s first big night out, and that they need to take it slow. Walks along the waterfront, maybe into a boat in a week or so.

The crowds have started to dwindle as mother’s take their sleepy children home, and some people pair off and go to find a private place.

They’re sitting at one of the little tables that have been set up near the water, their chairs pulled close together so their knees knock. Mac leans in like he’s going to say something to Jack, but then he doesn’t turn his head to speak, just stays there; in Jack’s space, just being there, a warm body pressed against him.

Jack’s hand is across the back of Mac’s chair and he lets his fingers press up against Mac’s back. It’s intimate, but no more intimate than some of the moments they’ve shared in their history.

Finally Mac does turn his head to speak, and his breath is hot on Jack’s ear and cheek. “She thinks we’re together,” he says. “Eva. That’s what she said right?”

“Naw, just a misunderstanding, that’s all,” Jack says, but he doesn’t move his hand, and he keeps his knee pressed up against Mac’s. The last thing Mac needs is someone to push him away.

“Is it?” Mac asks. He leans back enough that he can meet Jack’s eye. Mac’s baby blues are all full of emotion: excitement, daring, lust. But there’s nothing doubtful in them.

Jack swallows heavily. “Is it what?” He can’t remember honestly what the last thing he said was.

“Is it a misunderstanding?” Mac asks. He lets his hand come to rest on Jack’s knee. There’s no question what he means. And he isn’t drunk, and there’s a smile on his face.

“Well I mean…” Jack’s stuck for something to say. “It ain’t like we ever been more than just friends, right? We’ve got different rooms… we’re-”

Before Jack can finish Mac kisses the words right out of his mouth, not that he had any idea where he was going with that train of thought.

Mac’s kiss is soft but firm. It’s a kiss that tells Jack everything he needs to know, because they never needed words to communicate anyway: Mac knows how Jack feels now; Mac wants the same; Mac isn’t desperately trying to escape his dark thoughts, this is something he’s wanted for a while.

Mac’s hand moves from knee to cheek and intensifies all of these messages. The way his thumb strokes, and his fingers grip, tells Jack that Mac’s thought about this a lot, thought about how he would touch Jack.

Mac sits back, their lips parting. The glow from the buildings and the shadows from the night make him look like a sculpture, the perfect vision of man; golden hair, bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a grin that makes Jack smile back.

“Mac?” Jack asks, letting his arm come off the chair back to wrap around Mac and pull him in a little.

“Yeah, Jack?” Mac asks, his voice mischievous and so much more like his Mac than it has been.

Jack lets his face go serious, so Mac knows it isn’t a joke when he says, “Take me home.”

Mac’s grin widens. Jack knows this is right, he feels it in his aching bones. This is what is supposed to happen.

“You bet, Jack,” Mac says. He stands up, grabs Jack’s hand and pulls him along.

They wrap their arms around each other, the way they had when they’d arrived, and walk back through the streets Jack has come to know so well. It’s not rushed; they don’t need to rush because they have all the time in the world. Walking slow and deliberate is a message in and of itself: we’re not going anywhere, this is permanent.

They’d left the lights on, and the house is warmly lit. They stop just inside the door, and Jack has a moment of self-doubt. Does he really want me?

Mac must see it on his face, because he takes Jack’s face in his hands and leans in, kissing him again. Their noses bump, and lips scrape stubble as this kiss becomes more than the one at the waterfront. Jack opens his mouth in invitation, and Mac takes him up on it. And though it’s more passionate, it’s not hurried. It’s still slow and soft despite the sharing of air and saliva, the twisting of tongues.

Jack lets his hands wander, but keeps them soft and gentle as they feel Mac through his shirt, pressing at muscle and skin and bone through the layers of cloth.

Mac pulls back putting his temple against Jack’s, breathing soft against his ear. “I don’t know… how to do this.” His words waver a little. But his hands are sure when they slide down from Jack’s face, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as though he won’t let Jack go, won’t let him get away. “We’ve known each other a long time. Do we just…” The implication is heavy in the air.

Jack wants so badly. So long pining after this thing that he thought he could never have. Jack wants to just… everything.

But Jack can’t afford to be selfish, not with Mac’s headspace since they left LA.

“What do you want?” Jack asks. The shudder that runs through Mac at the caress of Jack’s breath on his ear and neck, makes Jack tighten his fingers in Mac’s shirt for a moment.

Mac presses his cheek gently to Jack’s before he speaks. “I want to take you upstairs,” he says, firm and confident, no trace of doubt. “I want you to come to bed with me, and still be there in the morning.”

“What exactly…” Jack swallows heavily. “We gonna do in this bed’a yours all night?”

Mac laughs, a little tickle of air and sound that caresses Jack’s skin. And then Mac pulls himself up against Jack. Mac is hard, pressing through his jeans.

“Oh god,” Jack lets out, involuntary.

Mac shudders again. “Whatever I can do to get you to say that all night long. That’s what we’re gonna do.”

They part, and Jack wants to pull him close again, afraid that when their eyes meet they’ll realize that this is just a dream, it’s not something they can really have. But when he meets Mac’s round blue eyes he sees only passion, and determination.

Mac pulls away, and takes Jack’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. He pulls Jack with him up the stairs.

There are three doors off of the landing. Mac pulls Jack into his room with no hesitation. It’s the better room, with the bigger bed and a big window looking out onto the garden. Jack’s wondered more than a few times what it would be like to wake up with the sunlight lighting up the garden and the birds singing.

Mac had left the window open to air the room out, and it’s a little chill. He lets go of Jack’s hand and crosses to close it up, drawing the sheer curtains across. The bright moon still comes through, lighting the room almost eerily.

Jack isn’t sure what to do with himself, standing in the middle of the room, feeling lost.

Mac turns from the window and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans. He must see the nervousness in Jack’s body and face, because he crosses the room in a few easy strides, half his buttons undone, and takes Jack’s shoulders in firm hands.

“It’s ok to say no, Jack,” he reassures, still no doubt in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this just for me.”

Jack shakes his head and smiles. Somehow that reassurance makes him feel at ease. “You got no idea how long…” he feels choked up suddenly and curses his emotions that always seem to swim too close to the surface.

Mac smiles. It’s his kind smile, not the one full of pity, but the genuinely kind one where his eyebrows tilt up and his mouth stretches lazily across his face. The smile that makes him look like a puppy dog, and widens his beautiful eyes.

“Sorry it took me so long… and… what happened to wake up,” Mac says. He puts a hand to Jack’s cheek, but it’s not gentle, it’s a firm press that reminds Jack he’s about to jump into bed with a soldier, with a man with strength in his hands. And that thought sends every single drop of blood in Jack’s body rushing south. He’s only been with a few guys here or there over the years; every once in a while he craved the feel of hard muscle and rough hands instead of curves and sweetness. But this here, he knows this will be both, and that just about drops him to the floor. Mac is hard muscle and callused hands and strength, but he also cares about Jack; it’s not some random hookup.

Jack leans in and kisses Mac, more urgent this time, tongue pressing between Mac’s lips insistently. He feels Mac’s hands fiddling between them, finishing the buttons of his shirt before dropping it to the floor. And then the tug at Jack’s jeans and the clang of a belt buckle. Jack’s hands sneak under the tight, soft tank Mac wore under his shirt, feeling the hot skin underneath.

When they break apart, Mac doesn’t pull back but pushes in closer, mouthing at Jack’s cheek and ear, tongue flicking out and tickling. He finishes with Jack’s belt, pops the button, and slides down the zipper. Jack’s tight skinny jeans stay in place on his hips.

Jack groans as Mac’s hands sneak up under his shirt and grab and tease at his skin.

“I’ve wanted…” Mac’s breath is laboured with excitement. “Wanted to touch you like this… for so long Jack. Oh god your body…”

Jack groans at hearing those words tumble from Mac’s mouth, words he’s only ever imagined. His fingers feel oversized as his brain tries to figure out how to function enough to undo Mac’s belt. Once he’s got Mac’s pants undone they fall to the floor in a heap.

Mac pulls back to slip Jack’s t-shirt overhead, and Jack takes advantage of the little bit of distance between them to slide his jeans off and throw them aside. He leaves his underwear in place, not entirely sure what Mac’s plan is, or if he’s going to freak out at any moment about jumping into something intimate with another guy. As far as Jack’s aware, Mac’s straight as an arrow.

Mac steps out of his pants, closing the space between them and looking down at Jack’s body with reverence.

Jack’s not stupid, he knows he’s in good shape. But he’s damaged too, and he’s getting older, and he’s never thought much about his body beyond it being a tool to get the job done. Whether that job was pleasing someone, or war. He’s never thought of himself as something to admire or revere. The look on Mac’s face as he looks though, takes away all doubts that Mac might shy away.

Mac’s fingers slip into the waistband of Jack’s underwear, and he looks up with a question in his eyes: is this ok. He’s probably expecting the same from Jack, some kind of freak out, or doubt. Jack’s never been open about his experience with other guys.

“Whatever you want,” Jack says.

Mac shakes his head and smiles fondly at Jack. “I want it. But this isn’t just about me Jack. Do you want it too? Or do you want to move slower?”

In answer, Jack slips his boxer briefs down and lets them fall to the floor. “I’m all in dude.”

Mac follows suit and slips off his underwear. And now they’re standing a foot apart, naked. Mac almost glows in the filtered moonlight he’s so pale, the white interrupted here and there by moles and freckles. Almost like a reverse night’s sky, little dark spots in the light. And his damn beautiful eyes seem lit from inside.

“I don’t know…” Mac shows his first moment of doubt.

“It’s ok,” Jack says, bending over to grab his underwear. “We don’t have to-”

Mac grabs his arms and pulls him back up, smiling at him. “Let me finish before you jump to conclusions, alright?” He laughs a little.

Jack sighs out a big breath and nods, standing straight again.

“I don’t know what to do first,” he says. “There’s so many things…” He lets his fingers trail softly from where they had gripped Jack’s forearm, up to his bicep and across his shoulder before they travel down his chest, circle his bellybutton and then trace the muscles of his stomach and around to his hip.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Jack says, still afraid to reach out and touch Mac again, like he might spook him. “All the nights you want me in your bed Mac, I’m here, alright? So we don’t gotta do everything at once.”

Mac smiles and his eyes mist over with a little emotion. He steps close and pulls Jack into a hug, and their bodies rubbing together naked for the first time isn’t the most important part; it’s the way Mac grips at him tightly and kisses softly at his neck, and whispers: “I want you in my bed every night.”

Jack feels all the muscles in his body soften. He wraps his arms around Mac and it feels so good and right to hug him, just skin against skin. “Good, cause this room is way better than mine,” he jokes.

Mac laughs against him and their bodies line up perfectly and his laughter stops abruptly with a little bit of puffed air and an almost silent moan that Jack might not have heard if Mac’s lips weren’t at his ear.

“I gotta tell you man, if we don’t get into bed soon, I might end up on the floor,” Jack says. “And not in a sexy way at all.”

Mac presses his face against Jack’s neck, soft lips against stubble and laughs again. And that sound makes Jack so happy he can’t express it. “Are you saying I make you weak in the knees, Jack?”

“Damn right. I ain’t ashamed to admit it. You keep doin’ that you’re gonna have to carry me to bed.”

Mac plants one more soft kiss to the side of Jack’s throat, and pulls him toward the bed.

They crawl under the covers together, ready to warm up the sheets and escape the chill of the room.

Jack lays back, and Mac slips between his legs as though he’s meant to fit there. And it feels like he is, from the way their bodies immediately come together perfectly.

Jack feels no shame at the way his thighs spread around Mac, knees tenting to make more space. He feels only excitement and passion and rightness when his hands find Mac’s ribcage, holding tightly there while Mac settles against him.

Once Mac is settled in place he stops moving and lets his head hang down until his face is pressed against Jack’s neck.

They just breathe together. Every place their bodies meet is hot.

Jack lets one of his hands travel up until his fingers run through Mac’s hair. Mac shivers above him.

Mac starts to kiss at Jack’s neck, letting his hips begin to move, rubbing them against each other. The friction between them is dry and a little rough, but they slide together so perfect Jack won’t complain.

Jack lets one hand roam down, sliding to lower back, and then lower still. He lets his hand rest on Mac’s ass, feeling the tensing of the muscles under his fingers with every slow press and retreat of Mac’s hips.

Their cocks slide alongside each other, the perfect tease of hot velvet skin against hot velvet skin.

Mac presses up onto his forearms to look down at Jack. And when their eyes meet, he sees heat and passion and caring firing in his gaze.

It’s a slow build, no urgency though there’s plenty of passion. It’s a promise of more, a promise of so much time laid out before them. Mac’s hips increase in speed slowly as they rut together. The way is eased and enhanced with sweat between them. They alternate between kissing and looking into each other’s eyes and breathing harshly. Jack keeps his hand in Mac’s hair, running his fingers through the golden strands because Mac seems to love it by the little noises he makes and the way he presses into the touch. They don’t speak. They don’t make much noise at all aside from the grunts of effort and the strained breathing. They speak with their bodies and their looks the way they always have.

Mac comes first, a surprise to Jack. They’ve set a steady pace that suddenly increases, Mac racing for the finish. He’s looking into Jack’s eyes when he comes, eyes widening for a moment before they roll up and close. He slumps against Jack, hips still chasing the feeling against Jack’s stomach. He lets out a soft, whispered: “Jack,” as his hips stutter one last time and stop.

Mac lays still for only a moment before he presses back up to a forearm and reaches between them. He takes Jack in a strong, sure grip and strokes fast.

Jack looks up with awe at the determination and caring in Mac’s face. The tensed shoulder holding Mac up, tight with muscle gives Jack a thrill of pleasure and excitement.

Mac tightens his grip on an upstroke, and lets Jack thrust into his hand, keeping his fingers tight around the head until Jack comes with a cry, taking a firm handful of Mac’s ass and pulling them tight together again. He thrusts against Mac’s body a few more times before he’s spent.

Mac collapses on top of him and they breathe hard together, chests rising and falling almost in sync, but not quite.

Finally Jack sighs, and brings both hands up to run through Mac’s hair. He wraps his legs around Mac’s thighs, holding him in place.

After a few minutes Mac peels himself off of Jack and reaches for the box of tissues on the bedside table. He wipes them down good enough to sleep, but they’ll want to take a shower in the morning.

Mac settles down next to Jack, pulling him close until Jack’s head is on his shoulder.

“I know we should talk,” Mac says, his voice rumbly. “But I’m really tired.”

Makes sense. Mac’s been depressed and keeping to his bed most days. A night out and some strenuous activity have no doubt sapped all of the strength he’s got for the day. And it’s late.

Jack presses in closer against Mac’s body. “It ok if I sleep here?”

Mac’s hand rubs up and down Jack’s back. “I was serious when I said I wanted you in my bed every night. And I want to wake up with you.” It’s such a tender thing to say and Mac says it as though it’s just fact, like he’s reading some science from a book. But that’s how Mac views affection. It either exists or it doesn’t. It’s here or it’s not.

“Good,” Jack replies. “Cause I ain’t movin’.”

Mac laughs softly and pulls him closer. “Good.”

At some point in the night they had moved. Jack wakes up with his arm around Mac, stomach pressed against his back.

The morning light is streaming through the sheer curtains, making soft shadows in the room.

Jack blinks against the light, his mind coming up from the best dream: Mac between his legs, but not just rutting against him this time, inside, frantic with excitement. Jack hasn’t wanted that from many men before. But Mac isn’t just anyone, and Jack wants everything.

Waking up from a dream like that though, leaves Jack in the peculiar situation of having an almost painful hard-on pressed between him and Mac.

Mac shifts in front of him, pushing back into Jack and causing the most wonderful sensation.

Jack moans, unable to keep it in. “I had the nicest dream,” he says, pressing his hips forward a little, his cock slipping perfectly into the cleft of Mac’s ass.

“You too?” Mac asks, with a smile in his voice. He takes Jack’s hand from his chest and draws it down until Jack’s fingers are wrapped around Mac's cock, soft skin hard under his hand.

Jack ruts against him for only a minute or two. The dream had been too good, gotten him too worked up, and Jack comes between them, his hand on Mac coming to a stop. Mac replaces it with his own and starts stroking fast and hard.

“Wait, wait,” Jack grabs his wrist to stop him. He wipes up with a tissue before he rolls Mac onto his back. He pulls the blanket down and pushes Mac’s knees wide so he can get between them.

Mac looks up at him expectantly with fondness. The fire in his eyes isn’t dwindling in the light of morning. Sunlight hasn’t changed any decisions made the night before, it hasn’t changed Mac’s mind.

Jack doesn’t tease. He takes Mac into his mouth leaving as much spit behind as he can manage on the first pass. He swirls his tongue around and starts to take him further, then backs off and goes again and again. He gets deeper each time, letting the saliva ease the way. His hand strokes where his mouth can’t reach and Mac is writhing under him in no time. He looks up occasionally to find Mac looking down at him with awe or lust or something that Jack thinks might be love.

“Wow,” Mac says, out of breath as he props himself up on his elbows. “Can you keep doing that thing with your tongue that-”

Jack knows exactly what he means and complies immediately, swirling his tongue around faster and sucking at the same time.

“Holy shit Jack!” Mac calls out as he falls back into the pillows, fingers digging into the sheets. “Oh… god… yes!”

Jack can feel Mac’s orgasm coming in the tightening of his body, and he pulls away to finish Mac with his hand. It’s just one more stroke before Mac curls up a little and comes over his stomach and Jack’s fingers. Jack strokes him through it, holding on a little long while Mac’s oversensitive, but he loves watching him squirm and laugh at the feeling.

“How’s that?” Jack asks, leaning over Mac to nuzzle and kiss at his cheek.

“I’ll tell you an hour from now when I can actually think again,” Mac replies, turning to Jack and kissing him.

Their morning breath is gross and they don’t open their mouths. Jack kisses down Mac’s cheek to the birthmark just under his jawline where he nibbles a little. “Maybe a good idea to have a shower?” Jack asks.

“Too bad we didn’t rent a place with a bigger one,” Mac replies. “There’s definitely not enough room in there for both of us.”

“Too bad,” Jack says, adding one last love bite before sitting up and looking down at Mac.

“You go first,” Mac says, “I need some time before I’ll be able to walk.”

“That good, huh?” Jack asks.

“You know it was that good asshole,” Mac replies, swatting Jack’s shoulder.

Jack crawls off the bed. “I do have a reputation you know. Jack Dalton don’t do nothin’ halfway.”

“Good,” Mac replies with a happy smile as he settles back into the bed and puts his hands behind his head.

The next few weeks are a bliss of walking in the village, soft romantic moments, and grasping lust. Jack’s room fills with stale air while he sleeps in Mac’s bed every night; their bed.

They’re not particularly affectionate in public. It’s not that either of them is ashamed, but Vernazza is a small Italian fishing village, not LA, and he’s not sure what the local opinion of same-sex relationships is. So they wander in public as friends, sharing the same types of moments they always have: laughter and little barbs and adventure up the steep climb to the castle.

Jack doesn’t say anything to Riley on their weekly calls. They haven’t discussed how to tell the team or when, so he just talks as though they’re still sleeping in separate rooms and relaxing as friends. And so it goes unsaid, and they live in the moment and enjoy each other in all the ways Jack’s always wanted but told himself he could never have.

After those few weeks, things become more intense one night when Jack makes a decision.

They undress each other softly in their room, trailing kisses after removed articles of clothing. Jack’s brain has been throwing an idea around, back and forth, since this whole thing started, and his stomach twists with indecision. So he goes with his gut, and stops Mac when they’ve gotten down to their underwear.

“Hold that thought handsome,” Jack says as he backs out of the room.

“Jack… what… are you ok?” Mac calls after him.

Jack vaults down the stairs before he can change his mind and hustles into the kitchen. He grabs the little glass bottle off the counter and heads back up the stairs.

Mac’s sitting on the end of the bed when he gets back into the bedroom. He looks up with concern and then his face contorts to laughter. “Dude, if you were going to bring food into the bedroom I was expecting chocolate sauce or whipped cream or something.”

Jack stops and tries not to get too excited at the thought of licking whipped cream off Mac’s body. “Oh man, eatin’ pie at Thanksgiving ain’t never gonna be the same after that mental image.”

Mac laughs again, so hard he falls back into the sheets.

Jack sets the little bottle of olive oil down on the bedside table. They haven’t really ventured here at all yet, so he goes slow. “See now, Vernazza ain’t really the best place to find lube. I’ve been checking around as discreetly as I could at some of the markets and that. And I haven’t been able to find a drop. So I figured… why not improvise?”

“With olive oil?” Mac raises an eyebrow. “Is it safe?”

“Safe as houses dude,” Jack says, “not ideal but in a pinch…” He shrugs.

Mac’s face grows concerned, and Jack feels a little smug, knowing exactly what’s about to go down, and who exactly is going to be doing what.

Jack slides his underwear down and climbs onto the bed. “We’ll probably have to wash the sheets, but I’m thinking: totally worth it.” He spreads his legs in front of Mac, all self-consciousness gone in the last few weeks of sharing a bed and exploring each other’s bodies. Jack pours a little of the oil onto his fingers and settles in while he slides his fingers down, spreading the oil before pushing one finger inside.

Mac’s eyes change from apprehension to excitement while he watches from the end of the bed. His eyes grow wide and stare intently as he fists the duvet.

“You just gonna watch, or were you plannin’ to participate?” Jack asks. He doesn’t need to ask Mac if he’s ok with this step, he can see it in his eyes, the pose of his body, the way he looks like he wants to jump on top of Jack.

Mac lets out a shaky breath and swallows heavily. “I’m just gonna… watch for a bit longer.”

Jack smiles. The way that Mac looks at his body sometimes makes him feel so wanted, so… beautiful.

Jack adds another finger, sliding it in slow, letting himself get used to it. He adds more oil and slides both fingers in again. Deep. Two is lots, he knows he’s good. He pulls out and Mac makes a noise from across the bed, like a whine stuck in his throat.

Jack flips onto his stomach. “Alright, come on man, I’m good to go.”

Mac gets up and drops his underwear. The bed dips when he kneels on it and comes close. And then he’s tugging at Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, roll over,” he commands.

Jack does as asked, unsure exactly what’s going on.

Mac spreads Jack’s legs and settles between them, sitting back on his heels and holding to Jack’s thighs. “Is it ok if… can we do it like this?” Mac asks.

Jack nods.

Mac clarifies, even though Jack hasn’t asked. “I want to be able to see you.”

“Well I’m right here,” Jack says with a grin, spreading his arms wide on the big bed. “Come and get me.”

Mac sinks forward, placing his forehead on Jack’s before he kisses him. Jack expects passion, but gets romance instead. And he’s so ok with it. More than ok.

Mac’s hands roam lower and lower until he teases at Jack and sinks a finger inside slowly; those long nimble fingers Jack loves so much. It sinks in easily after two of Jack’s fingers have been there before, and Mac crooks his finger up like a fucking expert and sends a wave of pleasure rolling through Jack.

Jack breaks the kiss to groan.

“Next time, I want to do this part,” Mac says against his cheek.

“I invited you and you declined,” Jack reminds him with a huff of laughter as Mac coaxes another wave of pleasure from him.

“Next time,” Mac says. “You have no idea how good you looked.” He grabs the bottle from the nightstand and over-pours the oil to slick himself up. “You ready?” He asks, holding himself in place over Jack.

Jack nods. “Come on. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for weeks.”

Mac’s eyes roll up and he takes a deep breath before he opens them again and smiles down at Jack. His face goes slack with pleasure the moment he starts to press in. It’s a hard, even pressure, and Jack’s body tightens instinctively, causing a pinch of pain before he takes a lungful of air and forces himself to relax.

Mac slides in and falls forward, hands braced on either side of Jack. “Are you ok?” Mac asks, his face full of concern.

Jack is more than ok. After the initial pinch, he feels stretched around Mac, but there’s no pain. And Mac is inside him, the way he’s been dreaming about and thinking about for… too long.

In answer, Jack lifts his legs from the bed and wraps them around Mac, giving them more space to move.

Mac’s hair hangs in his face and Jack reaches up to brush it back and holds it there, fingers tangled up in it.

Mac starts to move his hips, slowly, dipping his head to look down between them, to where they’re joined so intimately.

“ _You_ ok?” Jack gets out in a voice that is rough and growly.

Mac looks up, and his face is full of vulnerability, want and need and joy. He lets his arms give out so their bodies are pressed tightly together and he kisses Jack so desperately that Jack ends up with a split in his lip that he’ll worry about later because right now he doesn’t care about anything else.

They kiss and Mac’s hips move and he’s glancing teasingly across the place that makes Jack wild. He can tell Mac’s trying to go slow, and that’s not what Jack wants. He wants them to get lost in each other and not care about anything else.

Mac’s hands move under Jack’s back, gripping tightly at his shoulders.

“Come on Mac,” Jack grunts as he breaks the kiss. “Harder. Come on.”

Mac makes a strangled animal sound as he complies, frantically thrusting into Jack’s body before he starts to messily kiss at Jack’s mouth again. Their tongues tangle between breaths and they hold so tightly to each other that their skin turns white with fingerprints.

Mac whines and growls and sounds almost wounded as he lets go, his hips wildly moving to chase their passion. The sounds he makes tumble down Jack’s throat and vibrate in his chest. It’s like some kind of magic the way they become one in that moment.

The friction from Mac’s stomach, when his muscles tense and harden and release and become soft against Jack’s cock is almost torture. It’s too much and not enough, each and every moment a drastic change in sensation that makes Jack moan and growl and even scream out a few times. Whenever his mouth is free from Mac’s, when they’re taking in air to fuel their bodies, he chants Mac’s name over and over and offers praise: “Like that, just like that, there you go, yeah man like that.” Over and over.

Mac’s frenzied movements suddenly shift their bodies and strikes at the place inside Jack that turns the varied sensations into a culmination of pleasure that feels like an orgasm, but he doesn’t come. And then it’s gone.

“Right there!” Jack yells. He grabs Mac’s hips and uses his significant strength to pull him back to the right position.

Mac understands, and holds the position, somehow still getting faster and faster as they get near the end.

It’s so much all at once. His cock rubbing against Mac’s sweaty stomach, while inside him Mac strikes the same spot over and over again.

Jack’s entire body tightens up, legs closing around Mac and pulling him in, arms wrapping tightly around the man he loves while he orgasms and calls out Mac’s name.

Mac’s thrusts lose all rhythm and he lets out little grunts filled with Jack’s name as he comes: “Jaa… huh… ackkk.”

The moment they’re done, Jack rolls them over expertly, Mac still inside him as he settles on top. He brushes the hair from Mac’s face, and kisses the tip of his nose gone red from the sun that day.

“See?” Jack says. “Works like a charm.”

Mac’s eyes are closed, arms still loosely wrapped around Jack. “How… is your brain… even functioning… right now?” He asks between panted breaths.

Jack laughs and crawls off of Mac, both of them making a desperate noise at the separation. Jack leans down and kisses Mac so softly, the kiss of a spouse not just a lover. And then he wanders to the bathroom to clean up.

When he comes back Mac is already asleep, soft breath shifting the golden hairs that have fallen across his face again.

The next day they wander down to the market square to stock up on some things.

With every step Jack can still feel Mac, the sensation of his body returning to the way it had been before Mac was inside. Jack knows nothing will ever go back to the way it was. Everything is changed.

“You’re happy today,” Mac says, their knuckles bumping between them.

“I had a good night,” Jack says with a wink that causes Mac’s cheeks to flush.

Jack lets their hands brush again.

“ _Boys_!” Eva calls out in her glorious Italian the moment they get near her market stall.

“ _You look lovely today_ ,” Jack says.

Mac’s Italian is passable, but he has a hard time following Eva’s quick words, and he hates the idea of embarrassing himself with bad grammar. So he stays quiet.

“ _Where are you going today_?” Eva asks. “ _New adventures await_?”

“ _Groceries and breakfast and home for the day I think_ ,” Jack says, keeping his words slow so Mac can try to follow.

Eva smiles and raises an eyebrow. “ _So domestic_.” She’s a smart lady, and seems to have no issue with their relationship. “ _I hope you’re in the mood for cake today. I’ve baked one just for you. No extra cost. But I think you’ll like it_.” She pulls a small pre-wrapped box out and sets it down. There’s a big pretty ribbon already tied in place.

“ _Oh, what kind_?” Jack asks, reaching out to pick at the bow.

Eva slaps his hand away. “ _It’s a surprise. No peeking until you get home_.”

“ _You’re pretty bossy to your customers_ ,” Jack jokes with a grin, but hands over the money for the cake.

“ _Only to my favourites_ ,” she replies. And then she speaks slowly, and addresses Mac as much as Jack. “ _Seems you two are thinking of staying for awhile, yes? It’s been a few months already_.”

Jack nods and looks to Mac, trying not to be too much in love, especially considering they haven’t even really said that word outside of friendship circumstances yet.

“ _Yes_ ,” Mac replies. His words are slow, but he gets them all right. “ _It’s starting to feel like home here_.”

Eva’s face lights up. She takes one of each of their hands and holds them together between her own. “ _Home isn’t always a place_ ,” she says too softly for anyone nearby to hear. “ _You boys enjoy your day now. And no peeking at that cake_!”

They have caffe con latte by the waterfront with the pastries Mac’s developed a fondness for, before they finish up grocery shopping and walk home.

Jack’s curiosity is killing him and the moment they’re in the kitchen he starts unwrapping the bow on the box.

“You’re like a kid,” Mac says, shaking his head while he puts away the rest of their groceries.

Jack finally gets the bow undone and pulls open the lid on the cake. “Oh I think Eva definitely knows about us,” he says as he looks down at a heart shaped cake with cocoa and powdered sugar hearts dusted on top.

“Well, based on the conversation we had today, I’d say: obviously,” Mac says. He looks over Jack’s shoulder at the cake and kisses his cheek. “But yeah, she definitely knows.”

Jack stares at the “love” cake made for him and Mac by the village Nonna, and thinks maybe they can stay here. Maybe they can just live out their days in this little old fashioned haven tucked away from the world. Maybe together, they can be enough for each other.

A few more months pass. It’s the best life Jack’s ever had. Peaceful, but not restless, and so full of love Jack wants to burst. They can’t seem to get enough of each other, never get tired of each other, and Jack wonders when it will fade, when it will be snatched away from him like all happiness seems to be.

He doesn’t have to wait too long. September rolls around, and the world comes calling.

Mac comes into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. “Lunch?” He asks.

“I’ve got the stuff for some chicken salad maybe,” Jack says. He jumps up onto the butcher block island and lets his legs dangle while he watches Mac’s throat move, Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp of water. It does something to Jack.

“What about lunch down at the waterfront?” Mac asks.

Whenever Mac offers to go out into the town Jack caves, despite the fact that for months they’ve been going out, it still makes him so happy to see Mac out in the world again.

“Yeah, lunch on the waterfront sounds great,” Jack says, and even he can hear the lust in his voice.

Mac smiles and sets his glass down, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink. “Really? So there’s nothing you might want to do before we go?”

“Nope, not a darn thing,” Jack says. “Grab your coat and we’ll head out.” But Jack doesn’t move from the butcher’s block, feet kicking idly.

Mac’s smile turns fond and he wanders over to stand between Jack’s knees. They lean in at the same time and their lips meet.

Jack never gets tired of it. He’s been doing it every day for months and he’ll never be tired of kissing Mac. Their lips fit perfectly, they read each other’s movements, tongues sliding together and sending a tingle down Jack’s spine every time.

Jack puts his hands up into Mac’s hair and leans back, pulling him in closer. Mac settles against his body, hands laying heavy on Jack’s thighs.

They kiss easily like that for a while, and Jack’s previous excitement wanes a little. It’s a soft romantic makeout session that speaks of love and caring, not necessarily lust. He could go that way quickly, that’s never a problem. But this isn’t about that.

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. They don’t startle, too many years of being agents. The kiss comes apart slowly, with a few smaller pecks at the end. Mac leans his cheek against Jack’s.

“They’ll go away,” Jack says.

“What if it’s Maria?” Mac asks.

Their landlady comes around once every two weeks or so to check up on them and sometimes collect rent.

The knock comes again.

Mac takes Jack’s cheek in his palm and kisses him once more before stepping away and heading to the front door.

Jack jumps down and watches Mac open the door, and then tilt his head dramatically down.

“Mac,” Matty’s voice floats through the doorway and turns Jack’s insides to ice. He knew it couldn’t last. The outside world had come to find them.

“Come in,” Mac says with a casual friendliness, but Jack can see the tension in his shoulders. “We were just talking about heading to the waterfront for lunch if you want to join us.”

Matty walks into the kitchen as Mac closes the door. She nods to Jack. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she replies to Mac’s question. “I have a feeling you might want some... time after I give you the news I came with.”

Jack wants to curse, and throw Matty out. They need Mac for something. Why? Why isn’t there ever anyone else.

Mac leads Matty to the little living room. She sits in the chair and Mac sits down at the end of the couch nearest to her.

Jack stands and waits, nervously.

“Sit down Dalton, you’re making me nervous,” Matty says, falling into the familiar habit of commanding him so easily.

Jack concedes, and sits next to Mac, who shifts just a little bit away from him on the couch.

Jack feels like he’s been slapped. Sure, they haven’t said anything to the crew or anybody, keeping each other for themselves, and they haven’t talked about it, but Jack never thought they would want to hide it. Jack didn’t think Mac was ashamed of them being together.

And then he curses himself because Matty’s presence is putting them both on edge and he’s reading way too much into it.

Matty comes with briefings in hand, but they don’t look at them. They just sit quietly while she explains that she’d given Jill command of a task force to hunt down Murdoc. And that she’d done such a good job that she almost caught him. And Murdoc had murdered her for it.

Jill is dead.

Jack watches the grief and anger and frustration and guilt flash across Mac’s face. Mac had known Jill, had liked her. They’d worked together more than a few times and he’d admitted to Jack that he admired her intellect.

Jack wants to reach out and hold onto him, let him know that it’s ok. But Mac has shied away from him already in front of Matty. So Jack puts a hand to his shoulder like they would have done once when they were just friends, and grips tightly.

Once Matty’s done with her robotic briefing, she stands up. “I have a plane ticket for you for tomorrow,” she says, “for both of you. We need your help on this one Mac. There’s only one man I know that could hunt down and outsmart Murdoc, and it’s you. I’ll give you a call tonight and we can talk a little more once the news has… sunk in.”

Mac gets up and shows her out.

Jack wanders into the garden and stands under the hot sun, looking at the greenery all around. He tries not to let his mind conjure the smell of smog in LA; instead he wants to stay in the moment while he still has it; breathe in the flowers and pretend nothing is changing.

Mac comes up behind him, shoes scuffling on the paving stones. He puts his arms around Jack’s middle and rests a chin on his shoulder.

They don’t say anything, they just breathe together, the smell of flowers and the little home they’d made for themselves filling them up.

“Are you ok?” Jack asks finally. “I know you thought a helluva lot of Jill.”

Mac nods, chin sharp on Jack’s shoulder. And then he shakes his head, an admission that things aren’t ok.

Jack turns in his grip to see tears welling in Mac’s eyes that are red around the rims the way they get when he's going to really cry. Jack pulls him in close. The hug is so tight it almost steals Jack’s breath away.

“Wasn’t your fault hoss,” Jack says. “Just because you weren’t there doesn’t mean the same thing wouldn’t’a happened.”

“But maybe…” Mac’s voice is all snotty and full of tears, his face turned into Jack’s neck.

“No if’s and’s or but’s dude,” Jack says. “You can’t save everyone all the time. It’s not your responsibility.”

“I’ve been so selfish Jack,” Mac says.

“No, no,” Jack sighs out. He puts a hand to the back of Mac’s head and holds him close. “First off: you’re entitled to some selfishness, ok? You’re entitled to live your life Mac. Second, you got no idea what you’ve done for me here. No idea what you’ve given me.” The admission seems somehow more intimate than anything they shared in the bedroom upstairs. “If it eases your conscience, let this be for me.”

Mac snuffles the rest of his tears away and pushes back, looking at Jack with red puffy eyes. The resolve is building now that the grief is done with, and Jack can see there’s no question: they’re going back.

Jack holds Mac’s face in his hands and rubs the residue of his tears away with big callused thumbs. “Guess we better get packin’ then, huh?” He asks, trying to summon a grin.

Mac’s chin squares as he grits his teeth and nods. He puts his hands to Jack’s waist. “Nothing’s going to change Jack,” he says. “We’re going back, but nothing between us is going to change.”

And how wrong Mac is. Everything changes. They never told the team, and they still don’t.

At first Jack thinks Mac just needs a few days. Jack wants to comfort him so badly during the initial days of walking through Phoenix hallways full of people dressed in black with dour faces, carrying tear stained tissues. But Mac doesn’t give any indication that he wants Jack to comfort him, so Jack steps back.

Bozer’s still living with Mac, was taking care of the place while he was away. Whenever Jack comes over and tries to get Mac alone for just a moment so they can talk about what’s happening, Bozer is always there. He’s missed them both and won’t let them out of his sight. So they don’t talk.

And they don’t touch. 

Jack misses the soft kisses most of all. Kisses full of gentleness but also the scrape of stubble and the heady masculine scent of Mac.

He invites Mac back to his place under the guise of movies, just so they can work out what’s going on. But with the hunt for Murdoc such a focus, Mac waves off the invitation with the excuse of no time.

They fall apart the moment they set foot back on US soil. Everything they had built in Italy is gone, so easily abandoned for the routine of an old life.

Jack goes home each night and lets himself cry a little. Lets himself crumble alone in his little apartment full of possessions that seem meaningless now that he’s known something real and lost it.

They take a step backward from lovers to friends. But it’s tainted.

Mac can be cruel. He often makes Jack the butt of any joke he can think of. It cuts Jack to the core, but he plays along; bumbling idiot is a role he’s perfected over the years, even if it’s not real.

And then Murdoc is caught and they have an excuse to leave, if they want to.

But Mac chooses to stay.

There’s no discussion about what Jack wants, or about Italy. They haven’t talked about it, and the subject is never broached. If someone asks about their time there, Mac will give them descriptions of the waterfront or the castle. He never talks about their house, or Eva, or anything remotely connected to the intimacy they had shared.

Every day Jack is struck down with the pain of being so rejected.

Matty can see it in him, but doesn’t know what it is. She asks if he’s tired. If he’s hurt. If he’s getting too old for the business.

But it’s none of those things. It’s a heartbreak so unimaginable that Jack doesn’t know how to handle it. Especially when there’s no reason for it.

Mac flirts with women on ops.

Mac won’t look Jack in the eye.

Mac ridicules him.

Mac seems to have lost patience with translating things to Jack-speak.

Jack curses himself for letting it happen in the first place. Obviously Mac didn’t really want it, despite what he said in Italy. Jack was an escape and a distraction. It was never real. And now he’s lost his best friend over it.

So when the opportunity arises for Jack to escape, he seizes it.

Kovacs: an old enemy from Jack’s military days, isn’t really dead like he’s supposed to be. He’s causing trouble again and hurting people.

Jack takes the assignment, and doesn’t tell the team until the day he’s leaving.

He stands in the war room, dressed in his uniform and looks at the room of people he cares about most. Leaving them is for the best. He’s turning into a husk of a man, and it’s not doing them any favours.

Riley cries for his departure. Riley never cries.

Bozer puts up a strong front, and hugs Jack tight.

Mac’s face is stone, unreadable. Does he even care? Or is he happy about it?

Jack swallows heavy as he shakes Mac’s hand. Mac doesn’t try to pull him into a hug, or say anything much but that Jack is brave and he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t go stop Kovacs.

And that’s that, and Jack walks away.

It takes seven months to catch Kovacs. He’s dead now for good. Wouldn’t be taken prisoner.

Jack gets off the plane back home, and despite his better judgement, heads straight for Phoenix. He hopes that time and distance have somehow healed something between him and Mac that he hadn’t been good enough or man enough to do when they were together in person.

Matty tells him Mac’s gone. Been gone for months.

Bozer tells him that no one knows where.

Riley says he turned off his phone before he left LAX and never turned it back on so she can’t track him.

Jack knows the first place to look, and he gets on the first plane to Italy.

When he gets off the bus in Vernazza, it’s a hot day and his backpack weighs heavy as he walks to the market. Eva is there and when she sees him she smiles wide and her eyes get misty.

“ _My cowboy_ ,” she says, coming out from behind her stall to hug him tightly. “ _You never said goodbye_.” Her tone is scolding.

“ _Wasn’t my choice Eva_ ,” he says, the Italian feeling rusty on his tongue. He gets straight to it: “ _You seen Mac around here recently_?”

Eva nods. “ _He’s renting the same house you were in before_ ,” she says. “ _But no one has seen him for weeks. He pays to have food delivered. He doesn’t come out. Is everything… alright_?”

Jack smiles. “ _It will be. Thank you_.”

“ _Would you like to buy a cake_?” She asks, stepping back behind her stall. “ _Nothing eases bad times like a cake_.”

Jack can’t help but laugh. It feels like he’s been gone a week and not over a year. “ _Sorry Eva. In my rush I didn’t get any money changed. Maybe another day_.”

She slips a small cake into a box and hands it to him. “ _I’ll put it on your tab_ ,” she says. “ _Now see if you can’t talk some sense into that man_.”

Jack takes the cake and wanders the familiar streets back to their house. It looks the same. Small towns, things never change. The sun beats down on the peeling paint, the vines creep up and around the gate and the fence.

Jack stands at the front door for a long time before he knocks.

There’s no answer or sound from inside.

He knocks louder.

Finally he hears something stir.

He knocks again.

Mac’s voice carries to him in slurred Italian. “ _Leave the bags at the door_.” He must think Jack’s a food delivery.

Jack knocks again.

Mac opens the door and the sight of him breaks Jack’s heart.

Mac’s hair has grown longer than Jack’s ever known him to grow it, and is a tangled mess. His skin is pale despite the hot sunny weather. The t-shirt he’s wearing is stained, and he’s in his boxer briefs. His eyes are bloodshot, and Jack can damn near smell the booze wafting off him. His face is irritation and anger, not a look Jack's used to seeing in Mac’s eyes.

Mac’s face goes slack in surprise and weaves a little in the doorway. “Jack?”

“Course it’s me,” Jack replies. “Nobody seems to know where you are. Thought I’d check a few places.”

“How long did it take you?” Mac grumbles.

“This is the first place I checked,” Jack admits with a sad smile.

Mac’s face breaks and he falls through the doorway toward Jack, who catches him and holds him close. Mac shoves his face into Jack’s neck.

The guy smells awful. Like he hasn’t bathed or eaten or drank anything good for him in about two weeks.

“I’m sorry Jack,” he says, just the once, before he devolves into sobs.

Jack shuffles them inside and closes the door to keep nosy neighbours from seeing Mac’s breakdown.

Mac holds him tight, like he’s afraid if he lets go Jack will disappear. Finally, when his tears ebb, he speaks into Jack’s neck. “I thought if I came back to the last place I was happy… that it would help. But it didn’t. It’s not the same without you. Here or anywhere.”

Jack’s heart isn’t sure if it wants to crack in two or sing a song. Love shouldn’t be broken like this. It shouldn’t tear and rend. It should be happiness and love, not doubt and lies and torment.

“It’s ok Mac,” Jack says, telling him what he wants to hear. Maybe even what he needs to hear. “I’m here now.” He runs his hands through Mac’s greasy hair, and rubs at his back.

When Mac backs up, he drags his cheek against Jack’s and his lips follow as though he’s going to find Jack’s mouth and kiss him. Jack isn’t ready for that, and neither is Mac, so he pushes out of the embrace and grabs his bag from the doorway, hoping the cake box inside isn’t squished.

“Hey hoss,” Jack chokes through his warring emotions. “Why don’t you run on and get a shower, alright? You smell like the backside of a horse.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Mac says wearily.

Jack turns and watches Mac get to the bottom of the stairs. “Hey Mac?”

Mac turns hopefully toward him. “Yeah?”

“You drunk? Be honest now.”

Mac shakes his head. “Hungover,” he admits. “Not drunk.”

“Alright then,” Jack nods to indicate he should head upstairs and wash.

He pulls the little cake box out, grabs a fork from the drawer and eats half the little cake while he waits. It’s sweet and perfect and damnit he missed Eva’s cakes.

Mac stays in the shower a while. Jack’s glad, he obviously needs it. And while Mac’s in the shower, Jack can look around and gauge just what’s been going on in Mac’s head.

The trash is full of liquor bottles: beer and hard liquor. The cupboards are full of canned and boxed food that would survive the apocalypse and also just so happens to be easy to cook. There isn’t a real vegetable in the whole place.

The living room’s a mess. Old dirty plates and bowls all over the place. Some beer bottles stand at attention on the coffee table. Jack makes quick work of cleanup. This ends now. Even if all he came back for is to take care of Mac, he’s going to do it right.

Mac comes down after his shower wearing clean clothes: a plain navy t-shirt and a pair of tan Levi’s. His hair is brushed back out of his face and he looks a little more like the old Mac already.

Mac walks right up into Jack’s space in the kitchen.

“I saved you half of one of Eva’s cakes so-” Jack can’t finish the sentence before Mac steps up to him and presses their lips together.

Jack wants to fall into Mac. Wants to give in and live in the moment. But it almost destroyed him the last time. Instead, he plants his hands firmly on Mac’s chest and pushes him away. It’s not a shove, nothing so cruel, just a firm hand.

“No,” Jack says quietly as their mouths part. “No, Mac.”

Mac’s brow furrows when he steps away and he looks so confused. Jack likes to think of it as his golden retriever face. “But… I thought you came here for me, Jack? Didn’t you?”

Jack nods. “I came here cause I was worried. I’m still worried. You seen the state’a this place?” He swallows heavily, Eva’s cake sticking in his throat. “But you hurt me Mac. Pretty bad, you know?”

Mac looks at the floor, his face flushed with shame. “I know Jack. The way things went down in LA… I didn’t… mean for it to happen that way.”

“Well, I appreciate the apology, but…” Jack sighs. “Look at me Mac.”

Mac raises his gaze, a piece of golden hair falling into his eyes. Before Jack’s instinct can drag him forward to brush it away, Mac tucks it behind his ear.

“An apology is a good start, but it’s gonna take time to earn my trust back again man,” Jack says.

“I understand Jack,” Mac says, “whatever it takes. You just tell me… help me… I don’t know what to do.”

Jack knows just how much it kills Mac to admit he doesn’t know something.

Jack nods. “Well, let’s start simple, ok? We can go on some dates and see how things go. Ok?”

“Start over?” Mac asks.

Jack shakes his head. “We got too much history for that. I don’t wanna forget nothin’. Not even the bad stuff. But let’s just move slow. Start from here, and figure out our next move, ok? Just like on an op.”

Mac nods.

“Here, eat this cake, it’ll make you feel better.”

Mac picks up the box and digs in with the fork Jack had left in it. With the first bite he sighs and his shoulders relax.

“Come on, let’s sit down for a bit,” Jack says, leading the way to the living room. He sits in the chair, Mac on the couch opposite him.

Mac looks around the room, and blushes again, eyes on the cake. “Thanks… for cleaning up. I know it was a bit of a mess.”

“A bit of a mess?” Jack asks. “A bit? Understatement of the century dude.”

Mac laughs, but it doesn’t sound quite right; it’s off kilter.

“First thing’s first,” Jack says, seriously. “I gotta get this out here before anything else. I need us on the same page, ok?”

Mac looks up, eyes wide and earnest, mouth comically full of cake.

Jack smiles. “I can’t do this if…” This is it. The big moment where he gives Mac the ultimatum and puts his heart back in Mac’s hands. “If we’re not gonna tell people. I’m not in for this to be a secret. I can’t have you in the dark of my room and nowhere else, man. It’s all or nothin’. If we get into this again, we gotta commit that we’re gonna tell people. The people we care about. I think that’s where this all went wrong in the first place. You feel me?”

Mac nods, tries to swallow his mouthful and almost chokes.

Jack jumps up and grabs Mac a glass of water to wash the cake down with, giving him a little slap on the back.

Once Mac’s airway is clear again he nods. “I want that too Jack. I was afraid, and I’m sorry. If we’d just talked about it… I think things might have gone differently. We could have stood together and told everybody. Instead I just… I’m such a coward.”

“Damn right you are,” Jack says.

Mac looks up affronted.

“Hey, you said it first. Nothin’ wrong with bein’ scared Mac. But we gotta talk about stuff like that. You do realize that you went ahead and made that decision for both of us, without even talking to me first? God damn that hurt man.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Mac says.

“We’re well past I’m sorry,” Jack’s hurt and anger is starting to rise to the surface. All the thoughts he’s had and let roll around to the back of his mind to fester are coming to the fore. “So quit sayin’ it, ok? You say you’re sorry but I don’t know if you really understand how much it hurt. Standin’ next to you every day and not being able to even hug you in case people took it the wrong way. Things felt distant between us, like I couldn’t talk to my best friend honestly anymore. The jokes at my expense I could’a handled if I could still come home to you at night and fall asleep with you but instead-”

“Stop! Please stop,” Mac begs, tossing the box of cake onto the coffee table, unfinished. He leans forward, elbows on knees, face in his hands. He pulls his long hair from his face.

“This isn’t gonna be all sunshine and roses, dude,” Jack warns. “Not if we wanna be honest and make it better than it was the first time.”

“I know, it’s just a lot,” Mac says.

“Alright, what say that’s enough of the drama for today,” Jack says. “It’s gettin’ on to dinner time. Why don’t I make us something?” He wanders to the kitchen and opens the little fridge only to remember that there’s not really anything in it but beer. He checks the clock. “I’ve gotta run down to the market for a few things, and I’ll be right back.”

He begs a little cash off of Mac and takes off running. The stalls are closing when he gets there, but everyone remembers Jack, and stays open long enough for him to get what he needs. Then he comes home and makes a meal full of fresh tomatoes and peppers and sausage and fresh pasta. They eat in the garden as the night starts to cool around them.

“I forgot how damn beautiful this place is,” Jack says, leaning back to look at the mountain looming over them.

An Italian voice floats over the stone wall around the back garden. “ _Is that Jack? Cowboy Jack_?” Everyone in town had taken to calling him that. Their neighbour Gabriella is a sweet woman; in her thirties and single and happy to stay that way. She’d had Mac and Jack over for dinner a few times.

“Gabriella,” Jack sing-songs back to her. The wall is too tall for them to see each other, but they’d done this talking back and forth more than a few times. Another reason they’d always been careful to close their bedroom window tightly at night. “ _Glad to be back_!”

“ _Come say hello tomorrow_ ,” she replies. “ _In the evening for wine_.”

“ _I promise_ ,” Jack replies.

Mac hangs his head as they walk back inside to wash the dishes. “I haven’t… been out to see people much. I think they gave up on me.”

“Well, when you’re bein’ a shut-in, people start to think you don’t want to have anything to do with them,” Jack says. “We’ll get out and about. Starting tomorrow night with wine at Gabriella’s.”

Mac nods, his sadness fading a little in the face of Jack’s surety.

They wash the dishes side by side, one washing and one drying. Jack relishes in every brush of bicep against bicep, or the way their fingers cross over when they pass dishes back and forth.

This might just work out. If Mac’s in, then Jack will make it work.

They start slowly, with friendship. It’s the way things were before they started dating. It’s playing chess together, and getting frustrated with each other. It’s hiking up to the castle and jostling each other on the way. It’s reading books aloud in the back garden, and walking through the village, and boat trips out to sea and caffe con latte at their favourite cafe.

After a week or so, Mac finally works himself up to ask Jack on a date.

They go for dinner by the water, and eat a long slow meal over the span of hours. They each have one glass of wine, no more. Jack talks about Kovacs; the bad and the good alike. Mac talks about the void Jack left in his life, even before he left, because Mac pushed him away. They walk home together. It’s late and they chance holding hands in the darkness. At the top of the stairs they stand at the crossroads of doorways. Mac leans in and kisses Jack on the cheek; a soft goodnight. They go to bed in separate rooms.

A few weeks go by like this. A date every few days. They laugh and talk about fun things, but Jack also makes sure they talk about the serious stuff too. There is no forgetting what they’re doing, they're trying to rebuild something that was very broken.

One day they find themselves sprawled on the couch, wrestling over a chess piece. Jack looks down to see Mac under him, flushed with effort and intent on the rook in Jack’s fingers. He gives into his instinct and leans down to kiss Mac. They lay there together on the couch for a long time, kissing gently and holding each other. And that’s it. That’s where it ends.

Jack’s weekly calls to Riley continue, and one week to Jack’s surprise, Mac asks if he can speak to her. Jack hands the phone over and listens to them talk. They talk about everything: Mac’s been out of touch for months. She talks about Billy and the trip he set up to meet her grandmother. “Sounds like a keeper,” Mac says, and then adds: “speaking of keepers, I’ve got something I have to tell you.” He looks to Jack to make sure it’s alright, and Jack feels tears spring to his eyes as he nods. Mac tells her that he’s dating Jack. He doesn’t elaborate too much, and Jack can hear Riley’s millions questions tripping from the phone speaker. Mac reassures her that they’re going slow and that he won’t hurt Jack. That confession darkens Mac’s mood a little. He doesn’t tell her that he already hurt Jack, but that’s ok. They’re moving forward, not forgetting the past but not living in it either.

Mac calls Bozer immediately after.

Things go on, slow but steady. They date, they kiss goodnight, Jack sleeps in his own room. Sometimes they’ll have little make out sessions during the day, and it’s getting more and more difficult for Jack to pretend that those sessions of touching and tasting aren’t effecting him.

They walk home, fingers tangled together one night after dinner. They climb the staircase together and stop in front of the doors just like all the nights before.

Mac takes both of Jack’s hands and kisses him more urgently than most times. Their mouths open and they stand there for a while kissing. Jack pulls one hand free and slides it into Mac’s hair the way he does when they make out sometimes.

Mac takes a step closer, pressing their bodies together and leaning into Jack’s touch. He slides his lips to the side to speak against Jack’s cheek. “Jack?”

“Ya huh?” Jack asks, feeling a little love drunk.

Mac leans back to meet Jack’s eye and tightens his grip on Jack’s hand. “Do you want to… come in?”

It’s the first time Mac has asked. It’s what Jack’s been waiting for. If Mac had asked him a week before, maybe even two, he would have said yes. But Mac needed to have enough faith in them to ask.

“I’d like that,” Jack says, trying to sound cool and collected despite the fact that he wants to rip the clothes from Mac’s body and rut against him like some animal.

Mac opens the door and leads them inside. It’s starting to rain, and the water pings against the windows.

They kiss again, messier this time; sharing saliva and air and grabbing with hands.

“What… I’m not sure what you want Jack?” Mac asks.

Jack leans back and grins. He’s done waiting. They’ve been careful, they’ve talked. “You got any olive oil in this joint?” He asks.

Mac laughs, but then realizes Jack’s not joking and nods.

“Then oil me up baby, let’s go,” Jack says.

Jack hears Mac almost stumble on his way down the stairs. When he gets back, he sets the bottle on the bedside table and they undress each other slowly as though it’s the first time. Mac’s kisses to Jack’s body are reverent and soft. Jack nibbles at Mac’s skin, especially the birthmark under his jaw that he missed so much.

Once they’re naked, Jack lays back on the bed and lets Mac open him up slowly. Mac’s fingers tease and remember from when they were together before.

Suddenly, two fingers inside, Mac tickles at Jack’s prostate.

“Mac,” Jack groans, arching off the bed a little, his body tensing with anticipation and excitement.

Mac’s fingers slip free, and Jack looks up with a whine.

Mac’s face breaks, sadness creeping out as he traces the lines of Jack’s body with his clean fingers. “How could I…”

“Come here,” Jack says, tugging at Mac’s forearm and pulling him in. “Come here, man, I got you. I got you.”

Mac crawls up the bed and into Jack’s arms and they lay like that, just holding each other, Mac not quite crying but heaving in heavy breaths. Jack puts a hand in Mac’s hair, gently combing through it while the other hand is on his back, rubbing firmly.

“How could I do that?” Mac asks against Jack’s skin. “I don’t know… how I could do that to you.”

“It’s ok Mac,” Jack says kissing his temple. “It’s really ok now. We’re together and we’re going to be just fine. I ain’t leavin’ again. You’re not leavin’ again. We’re good, ok?”

Mac nods, and sits up again. He half-laughs through his receding grief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“Naw, it’s perfect,” Jack says, pulling Mac down to kiss him.

They fumble slowly back to passion, kisses starting chaste and getting dirty, touches above the belt at first and then wandering lower.

Mac pushes two fingers back inside while their tongues are twined together and Jack almost bites down. He pulls away and curses. “Warn a guy!”

Mac just laughs against his skin and works him open again.

“How do you want to be?” Mac asks, sitting back to look down at him.

“Just like this,” Jack replies from his back, pulling Mac down on top of him.

Mac pushes in, and their bodies remember each other, coming together easily and perfectly. Mac doesn’t tease, and he doesn’t take it slow, he grabs Jack’s hips and shifts him to just the right position for him to hit the right spot with every thrust. And then he falls on top of Jack and they pant against each other’s skin while Mac thrusts into him, just the way Jack likes.

Words spill out of Mac: Jack’s name; praise for Jack. They trip from his tongue like he can’t control them. But he stops near the end, and presses himself up onto his forearms to meet Jack’s eye.

“I love you Jack,” Mac says, letting the tip of his nose tickle at Jack’s. “I love you so much.”

And Jack comes before he can reply, the orgasm coursing through his body like cooling rain and boiling water mixed together in his veins and he holds Mac tight. 

When he comes back down, Mac is still chasing his own climax, thrusts becoming erratic with need. Jack turns his lips to Mac’s ear. “I love you too, Mac. So much you got no idea.” The words are grunted and groaned and between rushed breaths, and the moment they’re all out, Mac stills on top of him, inside him, and presses his face into Jack’s neck making the most desperate wounded-animal noise Jack has ever heard come out of a person.

They stay like that for a while; stuck together with spent muscles and sweat and come. Jack never wants to move and lets his fingers trail little lines all across Mac’s back and up into his hair. Sometimes it makes Mac shiver pleasantly on top of him.

“I want you to stay in my bed every night,” Mac mumbles sleepily against Jack’s sweat-tacky skin. “I want to wake up with you.”

Jack rumbles a happy noise.

“What are you thinking about?” Mac asks, voice still drowsy with exhaustion.

“Something Eva said once,” Jack admits, fingers still playing over Mac’s skin.

He feels Mac smile before he says something softly in Italian.

“What did you say?” Jack asks.

Mac leans up enough for his half-lidded eyes to meet Jack’s, and he repeats the exact phrase Jack had been thinking of: “ _Home isn’t always a place_.”

Jack feels so much he wants to cry. Instead, he repeats the words, and pulls Mac back down to nuzzle into him. He falls asleep holding tightly to his home, ready to wake up to him too.


End file.
